


A Case for Phone Cases

by SensationalSunburst



Series: Small Angry Gardeners [8]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, Future Fic, I-Thought-You-Were-Dead-Hugs, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 18:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17627540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSunburst/pseuds/SensationalSunburst
Summary: “We are alright here, guys, we’re alright. But according to Baltimore PD, which we overhead during the evacuation, there are at least three people down, one of which is a Riptide-"Neil registered the the ringback of Andrew’s phone before he realized he’d dialed his number, his heart rate climbing with each moment that the call went unanswered.





	A Case for Phone Cases

Everyone has an appendix but sometimes they decide to stop working, fill with poison generated by your own body and burst. Neil found that out several weeks back, when a stabbing pain in his side (worse, he thought, then the feeling of _actually_ being stabbed) forced him from the Riptide’s sprawling practice court to the ER. The surgery had been uneventful and successful and he was home a few days later to lounge around.

A few weeks later, even though he was feeling well enough to go on short, slow jogs, Neil was still benched and forced to stay home while Andrew and the rest of the team flew to Baltimore to face off against the Blazes. He’d fought it hard, tearing into his agent to let him at least be driven there, but ‘complying with doctor’s orders’ was literally written into his contract.

Neil felt the anxious restlessness buzzing under his skin like a living thing and took Jude on three walks before the game just to get out of the house. The massive curly haired hound, low energy and calm, had steadfastly refused the fourth attempt by simply ignoring Neil when he called for her by the door.

“You get that from Andrew, brat.” Neil grumbled, but sighed in defeat when Sir and King emerged from the depths of the house to curl up atop their newest sibling.

Andrew hated Baltimore, just like Neil, and was petty enough (just like Neil) to hold a grudge against an entire city,  so their game was a solid Riptide win.

As always, Neil was watching the post game discussion, both cats curled in his lap and Jude at his feet when all four moderators froze on screen, fingers flying to their earpieces.

“And we’re-”

“ _Dear_ _God-_ ”

“-we’re getting notification that there has been a shooting outside the Blaze’s stadium- is that Juan? Is Juan on scene?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, Juan Hernandez is on the scene, he has reported that the incident is over- Juan? Juan, are you alright?”

The screen flipped to ExyPN senior correspondent Juan Hernandez, crouching behind the open door of the news van, drenched in sweat and eyes wild. But his hand was steady where it held his microphone to his mouth, stuttering his greeting.

“We are alright here, guys, we’re alright. But according to Baltimore PD, which we overhead during the evacuation, there are at least three people down, one of which is a Riptide. Their status is currently unknown, but the shooter has been killed, I repeat, the shooting has stopped.”

Neil registered the the ringback of Andrew’s phone before he realized he’d dialed the number, his heart rate climbing with each moment that the call went unanswered.

He tried it again. ( _“You have reached the voicemail box of-_ wrong twin - _please leave your name...”)_

And again.

He wasn’t sure if his heart was beating. He’d felt it skip a beat, a jarring, uneven punch to his rib cage that was drowned by the increasingly loud roar of static in his ears.

Kevin’s ‘Keep your cool, he’s fine.' text did nothing to calm him. Kevin couldn’t know, he was in Atlanta, interviewing  with the Boars because for some reason, all of the Foxes were moving back to the East Coast.

“Are you fucking dead? Answer your goddamn phone, you fucking hypocrite.” Neil snarled. He paused with his hand half extended to throw the offensive object, but stood robotically, unable to sit still and wait with the burn of panic in his knees.

Jude followed him through their suddenly cavernous home, past the incomplete thousand piece puzzle on the kitchen table and the two cups of cocoa abandoned there. Past the pile of unfolded laundry and the fox print embroidered armbands sitting on top. She sat on the sunny patch of the patio overlooking Andrew’s sprawling garden as Neil began to walk, barefoot, back and forth across the yard, his phone clenched between white knuckles.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours, but before he knew it, Neil was running frantic laps around the yard, resisting the siren call to put feet to pavement by the skin of his teeth and the uncomfortable tug of fresh scar tissue.

His phone had been horrifically silent after Kevin's text, although his blood was rushing so loudly in his ears, his breath leaving his chest so harshly, that he was pretty sure he'd only be able to tell it was ringing by the vibration in his hand. Then again, with his heart hammering so hard within his chest that he could feel its panicked throws in his fingertips, he couldn’t really depend on that either. But he was too much of a coward to look again, to check the news, too afraid to see Andrew's name listed as a victim.  

It was too early, Neil thought, too early to lose him.

He was ruined for being alone. He didn't think he could stand it again, not when he'd known what it felt like to be a part of something like _them._ Not when he'd experienced their _this._

He didn't know how to take care of the garden. He didn't know Andrew's trick to keeping the tomatoes so tall without them bending.

He hadn’t made Andrew write down that risotto recipe yet; he kept forgetting and he hadn’t found the right notebook to start their cookbook in. How was he supposed to explain to Leigh that Uncle Andrew would never make him cookies again? Or take him to meet the Riptide’s players? He’d have to move, he couldn’t live with the ghost of Andrew’s presence in his life. He couldn’t stand the thought of having to open his closet and see a sweater that wasn’t in his size or the albatross of a wedding band with no twin.

He was circling around the tomatoes again, only just registering the change of the sun’s position in the sky, when a flash of gold caught his attention.

 _Andrew_.

“Andrew!”

Normally, he'd be ashamed at the sound that crawled from his throat, masquerading as his voice, but it was _Andrew._ Neil hadn't stopped running, but Andrew removed his hands from his coat pockets and stepped down the patio stairs to stand with his arms wide open, framed in the lights hanging from the patio; an invitation if Neil had ever seen it.  Neil dropped his phone and ran, full speed, straight into his arms.

Andrew caught him effortlessly, taking him off his feet and diverting his momentum into a spin. Andrew lifted his hand to the back of Neil's head, pressing his face into his neck and letting Neil slump into him. He smelt like stale airplane air and cigarettes, unusual because they both stopped smoking, cherry candy and something uniquely _Andrew._

“I'm fine.”

“You’re supposed to answer your fucking phone!” Neil hissed, unembarrassed by the way his voice cracked straight down the middle.

“Are _you_ of all people-”

“-I thought you were,” Neil stuttered, the word caught against the back of his teeth.

“Michael's got grazed because he is a dumbass. He won’t even need stitches.” Andrew pulled back, and Neil went reluctantly, knees still trembling. Andrew’s mouth twitched downward and he reached up, cupping Neil’s cheeks. Neil’s eyes fluttered closed, lashes dark against his cheeks as he inhaled relief and exhaled fear.

“I’m fine.” Andrew repeated.

“I thought you weren't.” Neil said,  “You didn't answer your phone.”

Andrew removed one hand from Neil's cheek to reach into his back pocket and pull out his phone. The touchscreen face was shattered like a spiderweb, several razor sharp shards missing.

“It broke.”

“ _This_ is why I told you to buy the case.”

“In case, during a shootout, some idiot pushes me into the bus and breaks my phone?”

Neil scowled, lips pouting prettily(as Andrew had planned) and so he just had to kiss him, (as he’d planned) because an angry Neil was easier to calm than a panicked one.

“Yes,” Neil said, “So you can fucking _answer your phone._ ”

“Fine,” Andrew said, voice low and scratchy, about as close to a soothing tone as he could muster, “You can even pick it out.”

 

Which is how Andrew Minyard came to carry his cellphone in an oversized fox face rubber case.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to pop a comment below!


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